On the curb

On the curb, on the curb in front of liquor store that sells rolling papers and a vast variety of pervy mags.

A baby food jar, in it a candle. There are a number of those Santos candles too.

The flicker of lights illuminates

A flower,

And then a bunch of flowers.

Some hastily expressed sentiment is written with a sharpie on the torn apart shards

of a card board box.

Another sign says “We miss you.”

Also mylar balloons. One is shaped like a heart “I wuv you”.

All of these make shift memorials are at best sad, at their worst cheesy.

A life reduced to the type of stuffed animal one buys at the Save-On thrift store.

I hope I never die in a car accident.